"But I don't want to, Prescott," appealed the principal. "I haven't
the remotest suspicion of you, anyway, my dear boy."

"I ask the search, sir, just as a matter of justice," Dick insisted.
"If it were not too strong a word, then I would say that I _demand_
to be searched here and now."

Suiting the action to the word, Dick Prescott, standing proudly
erect, raised both arms over his head.

"Now, please, doctor, just as a matter of simple justice," begged
the young freshman.

"Oh, very well, then, Mr. Prescott," sighed the principal. "But
I never had a more distasteful task."

Into one of the side pockets Dr. Thornton projected a shaking
hand. He drew out only some scraps of paper, which he promptly
thrust back. Then he inserted a hand in the jacket pocket on
the other side.

"Ouch!" suddenly exclaimed the principal, in very real pain.

He drew the hand out, quickly. A drop of blood oozed up at the
tip of his forefinger.

"Mr. Prescott," demanded Dr. Thornton, "what is that pointed object
in your pocket?"

"_What_?" demanded Fred Ripley, tensely.